Thunder
by Hannah Rubix
Summary: Was it normal to feel this way about someone you've only known for a little while? Emma was new, edgy, but who knew she had secrets? Greg was hurt, lost; could her pain help heal his? Greg & OC Emma!One shot unless I get some Reviews :
1. Something Changed

Disclaimer: I do not own Fall Out Boy, CSI, anything involved, or Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I figured to model this girl after another one of my close friends, plus I've always thought Greg was a sweetie. Rate & Review please, if you like. Please give me some ideas, I need your good taste to help me improve.

Dedicated to Ash, Baillie, Karen, Fione, Emilia, and May

* * *

Cocking his head to the side, Greg Sanders listened to the new sounds coming out of the trace lab. The music coming out of the room was unfamiliar; actually, it was totally unexpected. Henry usually worked in quiet, or he occasionally put on some classical music. This music could have been Fall Out Boy, or maybe Boys Like Girls. Sometimes he had trouble telling the difference between the over played music, but now he was pretty sure the music was Fall Out Boy. Greg had listened to them before, but mostly the songs that were commonly played on the radio. This one he had never heard before. Maybe Henry's taste in music was slowly improving, or one of the other lab techs had lent him a CD. He raised an eyebrow as he caught site of someone in a white lab coat twirling around as they moved around the trace lab, moving the beat of the song. It wasn't a bad song, it was just different. And Greg was sort of suspicious of why Henry's music of choice had changed so much since last week, or even since yesterday.

Greg's shift had just begun, but he was already feeling slightly tired. He had been feeling wiped out since the civil suit between him and James family had started. It wasn't like he was angry with the family for pressing charges, but he was a little frustrated. After all, it was Demetrius who had tried to kill him by throwing a rock at his head, and what Greg had done was self defense. But what was worse than that was the feeling he had. He felt like he deserved the civil suit for killing someone's brother another person's _son. _He felt bile rising in his throat as he thought about it, but he swallowed it back and tried to calm himself down. The side of his face still hurt a bit, even after all this time, and the second rib on the right still hadn't completely mended. Barely a year on the job and he was feeling world weary. But he wasn't going to go back to the lab with his tail between his legs just because of that. He wanted to prove that he was strong, and that he loved this job. People expected him to wimp out, but Greg Hojem Sanders did not quit on anything.

Following the sound of the music, he stepped into the trace lab only to be greeted at the sight of someone dancing around in a white lab coat. Greg started to smile foolishly; the person reminded him of himself, when he worked in the lab. But then he blinked; surprised. The figure dancing was clearly not Henry; it wasn't even male. The young woman looked to be about his age, barely even 30 years old. All he could see was a delicate figure in a white lab coat and a mess of brown curls pulled back into a ponytail. All of a sudden, he realized the young woman was singing along to the song, and he couldn't help but lean on the doorway and listen, still grinning goofily.

_  
__Drink down that Gin and Kerosene,  
And come spit on bridges with me,  
Just to keep us warm.  
Light a match to leave me be.  
Light a match to leave me be._

_  
I keep my jealousy close,  
'Cause it's all mine.  
And if you say this makes you happy,  
Then I'm not the only one lying  
_

_Keep quiet,  
Nothing comes as easy as you.  
Can I lay in your bed all day?  
I'll be your best kept secret  
And your biggest mistake.  
The hand behind this pen relives a failure every day._

_I keep my jealousy close,  
'Cause it's all mine.  
And if you say this makes you happy,  
Then I'm not the only one lying._

_Drink down that Gin and Kerosene,  
And come spit on bridges with me,  
Just to keep us warm (Just to keep us warm)  
Light a match to leave me be.  
Light a match to leave me..._

All of a sudden, the girl turned around and dropped the evidence bag she was holding. Automatically, Greg reached down to get it, but she had already snagged it up. "You really shouldn't sneak up on people," she said crossly, arms crossed over her chest and cheeks flaming in embarrassment. At first, Greg was lost for words. The young woman in front of him was more beautiful than he had first realized. His eyes followed the soft curves on her body, and even though she was small, she definitely had a good body. Her skin was a soft, lightly tanned white which was now tinged with red cheeks. She had high cheekbones, a smooth complexion, and an exquisite frown. He wondered how she would look when she smiled. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but he could see the golden brown color of the flyaway curls she had pulled back. Finally, his eyes met hers. He blinked, trying to look into them before she looked away. Her eyes were clear and determined, wide and intelligent. They were green, but with flecks of gold and brown so he couldn't be sure if they were green or grey.

Greg let out a breath and blinked in surprise as she snapped her fingers in his face. "You can stop staring now." The girl was clearly embarrassed, so Greg decided to have a little fun with her. "Maybe you shouldn't have been dancing on the job." She blinked, clearly taken aback. "You saw that…Well, maybe if you had been working I would've had actual evidence to process." He was momentarily stumped, unsure of how she knew he was a CSI. She pointed to the vest he had forgotten to take off. "OK…E. Edwards, I see how this is," he replied at last, glimpsing her name on the lab coat. Unfortunately, she crossed her arms again so he couldn't see her name and then walked back over to the counter, where trace results were printing out. "So…what are you doing in Henry's lab?"

She took a moment to consider his words before responding. "Henry's lab? This is my trace lab until he comes back from New York. That should be awhile, since he's considering the job offer they gave him." Greg was momentarily lost for words; he didn't know Henry was planning on leaving. "Since you'll be taking over trace, I might need your name. And number." He finished with a saucy wink. She rolled her amazing eyes before fixing them on him. "Alright, first off, it's Emma. And second, maybe later, like when hell freezes over." He scoffed at her words, pretending he was hurt. "Saucy," he muttered. "And since you're probably going to be in here, bugging me for results, I'll need to know yours, G. Sanders." He crossed his arms over his vest, copying her move. "It's Greg, and don't be so quick to refuse. You may need a hero." He could tell she biting back a rude reply by the way her pink lips were pursed.

Before Emma could finally respond, Sara walked into the trace lab and squealed. Yes, that's right, Sara Sidle actually squealed. "Emma!" She called, her brown hair almost bouncing as she walked quickly over to the new trace techie. "Sara!" Emma cried in response, hugging the girl. Greg raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing you two have already met?" Sara beat Emma to the answer. "Harvard. Well, and Berkley." He looked at both of them beside each other and shook his head. Emma looked down at her watch and cursed lightly. "I have to go, supposed to go and take some evidence from the DNA lab. I'll catch up with you later Sara." She waved goodbye and then turned to look at Greg. "And you too, if you have any evidence next time."

When he blinked, she was gone. Sara turned around, a smile tugging at her mouth. "She's…different. Good different," he said evenly. Sara nodded in agreement. "She definitely is. Just don't probe into her life, ok? She came out here for some space, and she doesn't need anyone reminding her of why she left California." Before Greg could ask what she meant, Sara was gone too. Whistling, he looked around the lab and then looked at the CD Emma had been playing. He shrugged and then picked it up, popping it into the player. Maybe she didn't have that bad of a taste for music.


	2. Telling Someone

I always felt so bad for Greg after Fannysmakin', and I felt he needed to tell someone his feelings. Rate & Review please!

* * *

Unable to divulge any further into the mystery named Emma Edwards, Greg had to go and meet Nick in the break room to talk about the case. The saucy trace technician was on his mind the entire time as he walked to go respond to Nick's page. He wanted to figure out where she had come from, why she had come here, why Sara wanted him to stay away from her, and why on earth she was such a big Fall Out Boy fan. But they were growing on him, that Greg had to admit. After listening to a few songs on the mix CD she had, he was determined to see more of her, and also to improve her taste in music. There wasn't anything too bad on it, nothing like Britney Spears or Jessica Simpson, but she had the occasional Carrie Underwood and One Republic song. He was curious about her. Greg had always thought you could find out a lot about someone by their MP3 or Ipod playlist, and a mix CD was all the better. In fact, he had tucked her CD into his bag. It wasn't stealing; really, it was just basically borrowing and listening to something. Anyways, hopefully she wouldn't notice it was gone, even though she probably would.

"Hey Nick," Greg said, peeking into the break room. The brawny, former quarterback was already seated, sipping a cup of coffee. And judging by Nick's expression of peace, he had taken some of Greg's Blue Hawaiian coffee. "Greggo," Nick replied, getting up from the couch where he had been resting. Greg sat on the chair opposite the couch and looked expectantly over at his colleague. "So…why did you page me here?" He asked, his mind reeling. Nick grinned. "I was just going to tell you that Dr. Robbins found some trace in his fingernails, so I sent them to the new tech. Just thought you should know. Actually, could you pick them up?" Greg smiled automatically; he didn't even have to try and go to Emma; his work basically pushed him to her.

But he knew that Nick would joke about how excited he was to be going to see her, so he just nodded. "Fine man; but next time, it's your turn." Nick nodded, already laying back down for some well earned rest. Before Greg was freed to go and collect their results, Nick interrupted him. "What do you think of the new tech? She's really something, and not bad to look at." Greg nodded once again his agreement. "I mean, she was even wearing a band shirt this morning." Hearing those words, his face broke out into a grin. "The results call!" He called triumphantly, walking out of the break room, the huge smile still on his face.

Greg sauntered over to the trace lab, his mind going over the details of the case. John Jefferson, a man in his thirties, was found dead in the Mirage. His wife lived in Orange County, but was moving up here in the same week he was found dead. Three used condoms were found in the garbage can, and John was found shot in the head, execution style. Prostitute trying to steal the money? Pimp trying to get his hoe back? Both of those explanations seemed simple, too simple. Besides, there was blood spatter that didn't match John, his wife, or anyone in CODIS on the sheets. A bloody bustier was found downstairs in the elevator, but no body had been found. Greg toyed with the idea that the John shot the woman he was with, and then himself, but the prints on the gun didn't match him. And the mysterious, disappeared woman was no closer to be found.

Putting a smaller smirk on his face, he walked into the trace lab only to face Emma. She looked up from the printing results and smiled. "What are you doing here, big shot?" He smiled readily, snatching the paper out of her hands. "He-"He interrupted her without a thought. "I'm here for my results on the substance found in Mr. Jefferson's fingernails." She glared at him momentarily and then snatched the results out of his hands before he had time to process what she was doing. "The black _gunk_ is in fact liquid latex," she read from the paper, smiling proudly. He blinked astonished as she continued. "The stuff that Vegas whores like to wear instead of clothes. You know, most men prefer to peal the latex off their hoes instead of the normal outfits they come in." He started to laugh, harder every moment. "How do you know so much about the prostitute business?"

There was nothing more adorable than watching her blush, and Greg was delighted with that pleasure again. Her cheeks flushing pink, she quickly replied, "I don't really. I just did a little research, coming to Vegas." He laughed again, and she quickly joined in as he leaned on the table. "Cute," he muttered this time, and was surprised when she smacked him in the arm. "Shut up, this is my first time here. Besides, I didn't know I was going to meet such a street smart, cocky guy." Emma kept her eyes trained on the table, but he could tell she was averting them for a reason. "I am not cocky!" He protested, but she smirked. "I see I've hit a nerve." She laughed lightly and moved onto the evidence tray, Greg trailing behind. "Anyways, what brought you to Vegas?" Her back stiffened, but she didn't look too uncomfortable. "I had some issues back home, and just transferred. More crime here, more time to work, just an all around better place," she replied at last. "I was meaning to ask, where'd you get that bruise on your face? The bad guys that bad?"

Greg bit the inside of his cheek carefully, trying not to give the pained expression he usually wore. "I was attacked," he admitted, and quickly noticed the tender expression she was wearing as she listened. He had never seen, or met, anyone so willing to listen to his problems or to his demons. "Are you alright?" She finally asked, studying his face as she worked. "Not really," he laughed dryly, bitterly. "I was driving to the lab from the DA's when I saw a group of people attacking someone. I called for back up but the guy was hurt. Dying even. I drove over to stop them, and they all ran away except one guy. He ran to my car and was coming to hit me with a rock. I did the only thing I could, I put my foot on the pedal." He gulped, noticing the pained expression she was wearing, but continued for her benefit.

"I hit him with my car." His voice was raw now, trying to control the wavering emotions he was feeling. "And then glass shattered. They came back…they came back for me." He was breathing shallowly now, recalling the moments of pure terror he had felt, all the pain. He was too absorbed to notice her reaching out to him, holding onto his hand, rubbing his knuckles in comfort. "The window, they smashed the window. Someone, they were pulling me out. They had me. Don't touch me! They hit me again and again, they're kicking me. I can't breath, I can't see, I can't feel for much longer." His heart rate sped up, and he was barely aware of Emma clutching onto his knuckles, urging him to stop. "I can't get away! They've got me. I won't make it out, I can't make it out!" He felt sharp pressure on his knuckles and looked down; surprised he was still in the lab. "Greg, calm down. It's over; you're in here, with me." Emma's voice reached him, and he felt himself being put in the young woman's arms. He was in Emma's arms, a girl he barely knew.

"The boy I hit, he's dead. I killed someone, someone's brother, someone's _son. _The family is pressing a civil suit on me since the court case was closed." He breathed in deeply now, aware of being pressed into her chest. He stayed like that for another few moments before pulling away. "I'm-I'm sorry about that," he murmured, now embarrassed. She backed away too, clearly feeling the tension in the air. "It's ok, it wasn't your fault," she repeated. Greg looked at her carefully, now noting the hurt expression on her features. "Are you ok?" He asked her as she nodded in response. "Yeah, I think we should get back to work." He was hyper aware of how close he still was to her, but he backed away.

"Actually, I think I need to go. Duty calls." Greg tried to make a pitiful attempt at a mocking joke, but Emma laughed anyways. "So, I'll see you around," she responded evenly. "In fact, you're trace evidence will be at the top of my list." He chuckled at her and waved goodbye. He hadn't been able to learn anything about her; all he learned was that reliving those moments did not do anything good for him. But he couldn't shake the goofy grin off of his face, or the memory of being pressed up against her chest as he told his horrible story. Maybe coming back so soon wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	3. Back In Action

I wanted to bring back the humor and the passion in the story, but also Greg's feelings about Fannysmackin'. Hopefully I did an ok job. Rate & Review please, I would really appreciate it.

* * *

The only thing Greg disliked about working as a CSI, and it wasn't even really a dislike, but more of an annoyance, was that the CSIs never got to just sit around, waiting and thinking. In the la, that was almost all he ever did. But in the field, all he could do was work, and even though it was welcome and distracting, when there was something he really wanted to ponder he just couldn't. He rubbed his bleary eyes, once again tired from his lack of sleep. Last night shift was odd, surreal even, and he wanted to tackle this one with all his defenses prepared. But there was one thing he hadn't been counting on: his total and terrifying inability to sleep. Sure, he could shut his eyes and drift off for a few moments if he was lucky. But no sooner than a few minutes later, flashes of hitting Demetrius James came into his mind and his eyes would open with a snap. Okay, maybe not a snapping noise, but it still had the same effect on him. His eyes would be blinded by the light in his bedroom, and he would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed. People could call this uncharacteristic, that formerly well rested and cheery Greg was unable to sleep.

How could he? How could he even try to shut his eyes? Whenever he did, he swore he was back there, lying on the road, being kicked again and again. Whenever he did, he could see the same scenario replaying itself over and over again. First off, the man getting beaten to a pulp. Greg driving forward was next, his heart racing, beads of sweat falling off of his face as he called for help. And then, the brain boggling moment that Demetrius James ran up to him with the rock, the headlights shining off of his ice blue eyes. The bone shattering split second decision to drive forward, the heart breaking, mind racing second when Demetrius was suspended in the air, and then the sickening crush as the man hit the ground. Over and over again he hit the ground, Greg having no time to react or think. The moment, the second, of pure terror and worry, and then the horrifying sound of shattering glass, the second when he turned in horror to see what would happen, and the realization he was next as his window was broken. The adrenaline rush, the heart stopping, pulse ending moment he was tugged, pulled from the car replayed itself. The feeling of being helpless, of taking each and every kick and punch. Finally, the Pig spitting on him. After that moment, he would wake up in a cold sweat.

Just thinking about it made him nauseous and terrified, so he concentrated on where he was walking. Grissom wanted him in the garage to help test a theory, to understand the positions of the bodies; which meant he got to spend some quality time with either Sara or Catherine, neither of whom who were bad looking. But Greg wanted to spend some more time with somebody else, someone he had probably scared the hell out of yesterday. Someone who probably thought he was a psycho, and who would avoid him at all costs, someone he wanted to have know all about him, including the twisted, scared, angst filled parts that even he didn't understand. He looked down at the blue jumpsuit he was wearing, tugging at it and wondering what was going to happen with him. "Hey Grissom, Sara," he nodded to them, making a beeline for the mattress Grissom gestured to. "We want you to lie down like…this," Grissom demonstrated, smiling lightly. "Wait for our assistant to get on, and then stay still while we pour the blood on you to get the positions right."

Listening to his words, Greg raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Sara?" He asked half heartedly, watching as she shook her head. He frowned thoughtfully at the brunette, wondering who was going to take her place. Suddenly, Emma hurried in wearing the same blue jumpsuit he was wearing, only a little tighter and a little smaller. "Hi," she greeted them all with a smile, eyeing the lying down Greg with a wry expression. As Grissom and Sara showed her her place and told her the instructions, Greg admired her dreamily. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't hate him. Emma gently pressed her body on his, putting her arms and legs in the position Grissom hypothesized the victims had been laying in. "Don't even think about it," she muttered through gritted teeth at him while her face was within inches of his. "Of what?" He smiled innocently; she could be so much fun sometimes. He felt her jump slightly as Grissom and Sara began to pour the blood on them, it was surprisingly cold. After a few moments, Greg couldn't resist for much longer. "Having fun?" He taunted, laughing at her squeamish expression. "I swear to god, if this isn't my blood…"

She trailed off as Grissom started ranting on about how it didn't match the stains, but much to Greg's surprised she interrupted him. "Hmmm... what if Greg and I sort of…switch positions?" She asked, her face wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. "I mean, if my arm goes here, and he moves his fat legs." She demonstrated as he rolled his eyes. "My leg is not fat," he began, but Emma shushed him. Sara squinted and replied, "That could work." After they got sorted out, Greg ended up on top of Emma. "What have you been eating?" She breathed as he softly moved his body down, careful not to put all of his weight on her delicate body. "I mean, you weigh like 5 tons." He rolled his eyes again. "I didn't ask to be on top of you," he replied. "Yeah, but you seem to be enjoying it." She was really starting to get ruffled, wasn't she? Oh well, he liked her like this. All of a sudden, he was aware of a squirming near the top of his leg.

"What are y-"She shushed him with another smack and moved her hand up his leg softly. He was starting to smile like a fool again, but her eyebrows were tightly knit so he decided not to say anything. His heart was pounding, and he was starting to get a little excited as she put her hand into his pant pocket. Greg's eyebrows were raised as she moved her hand around a bit in his jeans. All of a sudden, her hand was gone and so was the pointy thing that had been poking him all day. He blinked as he saw her holding her CD and grinned sheepishly. To his surprise, she slugged him across the face and he held his jaw, laughing hysterically as Grissom and Sara watched in surprise. "You ass! I've been looking for this since yesterday!" She was bothered, but had some sort of mischievous look in her eyes. "I just wanted to see what you had on your CD, and if you had any good taste at all."

"What makes you the expert on good taste?" She hissed. He shrugged, enjoying her anger. "OK thanks guys, but we're done in here." Grissom waved them goodbye as he and Sara left the room, leaving Greg and Emma alone on the mattress. She got up in hurry, her cheeks red with anger and her eyes flashing. Unfortunately, or fortunately for Greg, her pants were a little too long and she tripped over them. Emma went flying into the air, and landed promptly in his arms. "Let go of me," she muttered, fighting to get out of his grasp. He brought his mouth up to her ear. "Not until you say sorry for punching me," he murmured, laughing quietly. "NO," she spat out, shoving him away, unsuccessful at getting herself out of his arms. "I hate you." She was still trapped in his arms, and clearly still bitter. He kept his mouth sewed shut, hoping for an apology. "I-I'm sorry," she muttered slowly, looking down in shame. He loosened his arms, allowing her to slip out.

The next thing he knew, Greg was lying flat on his back on the mattress with another bruise, this time on his chest. "You kicked me," he got up, glaring at her accusingly. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't have if you hadn't trapped me." Emma slid out of the top of her jumpsuit, revealing a white tank top, and tied the rest around her waist. "You punched me first," he argued back. "You stole my CD." "Damn, fine, you win," he relinquished his position, and watched her as she walked out of the garage in a huff. All of a sudden, he burst into breathless laughter, only to here her cry, "I can still hear you!" That only made him laugh harder, and he was suddenly very glad he had spent part of his shift in the garage. Who knows, maybe he could her not to hate him so much.


	4. An Unexpected Visitor

My ideas are pretty predictable and pretty horrible, but hopefully they will get better. R&R please. I hope I made Greg as canon as possible, but it's sort of hard. I'm thinking of writing a chapter from Emma's POV but I'm not sure. I had fun writing this chapter, and the next two will probably be the same night. And I know I get the night shift times messed up, it's just sort of confusing, haha.

* * *

Greg wanted to be there for her. Maybe she didn't know that yet, maybe she only thought he liked her for her body. And even though her body was wow -there were no words he could to describe it- he wanted her to know that his feelings for her ran deeper than that. He liked to think that she thought of him like that too, when she was blushing and teasing him. Today was the first day he took off in a while; he needed the day to rest and plan his strategy for tomorrow. Fast forward to two hours after he decided to take today off, and he's sitting on his couch, moping and missing the lab. There was a time he would've been out with a girl, or doing shots with friends. In fact, he could be doing that right now. Instead, he declined his friends' offers and decided to spend the day moping about someone who didn't like him like him, and staring at his phone. But then he realized he had left his cell in the lab. Great. Was it so wrong that he put his number into her lab coat while she wasn't looking? Maybe she just hadn't found it yet. Or maybe she just didn't like him. But he was sure she had a good time yesterday, in the garage, so her silence stunned him.

He looked outside, the corners of his mouth turned up in a grim smile. Whoever was outside or driving right now was probably screwed. Greg admired the flashes of lightening, the hard drops of pouring rain, the howling wind, and the pealing thunder from his warm, safe apartment. Much to his surprise, someone rang for him, and he heard the beeping noise. "Hello?" He asked, getting up and practically pressing his ear up to the small speaker. He heard sloshing, and then a rough voice came to his ears. "Mr. Sanders?" He had to press his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. "Mrs. Ostafichuk? What's wrong?" He asked his elderly Ukrainian neighbor. The old woman was definitely crazy, but this was the first time she had done anything like this. "Oh, hello," the voice came again. "There's a pretty girl who says she's here to give you something." His heart soared at her words, but he replied, "OK, I'll buzz her in." After pressing the button, he retreated back to the couch.

Greg put his legs up on the table and waited until he heard the satisfying knock on the door. He jumped up at the sound, beaming, and stopped for a second to fix his hair in the mirror. It could be anyone, but he still liked looking good for a pretty lady. He pressed his eye to the peephole and grinned wildly as he saw Emma standing there. After a moment of looking at her, he laughed. "I know you're here Sanders, so let me in," she said, annoyed, but smiling. After another minute of deliberation, he opened the door. "Emma! Guess you couldn't stay away for long!" She rolled her eyes but laughed. "I drove all the way here in the rain for you Greg, so you better invite me in." He gallantly gestured her to come in and laughed she shook her hair. "What did you do, walk here? Don't touch anything," he warned, shaking his head at her soaking clothes. "There was no where to park, so I had to walk for a bit." She was soaked, every bit of her.

"Here, sit down. Wait, don't. You look terrible!" He took delight in telling her this, and as expected, Emma rolled her eyes. She took something out of her pocket and handed it to him. "You left your cell phone in my lab. I'm guessing on purpose?" He shook his head, and she looked surprised. She gingerly removed the jacket she had been wearing and he held his lips together to keep from laughing. "Damn it," she groaned, looking down at her now see through white blouse. Her cheeks turning red again, she crossed her arms in haste. "Don't look you idiot!" She cried, embarrassed. Greg couldn't hold the laughter back for much longer, so he burst into a round of loud laughter. "Would you, uh, like to borrow some clothes?" He asked once he finished laughing. She looked like she needed them. "You think your clothes…will fit me?" She used her hands to gesture her smaller body type, and he suddenly had a clear view of her lacy black bra. Fortunately for her, it wasn't see through like her top. She realized what he was gaping at and cringed, wrapping her arms around herself again. "Fine! Could I please have some clothes?"

After digging through his clothes, Greg managed to find some reasonably sized clothing. He tossed them to her and lied down on the couch, waiting for her to get dressed. Poking her head out of the bedroom, Emma laughed. "Don't you look cozy." He looked up, surprised that she was done so quickly, but then she held up his clothes. "Do you mind if I take a shower? I'm kind of muddy." He nodded, trying hard not to smirk. She walked to his bathroom still wearing her soaking clothes, and shut the door. "Hey, how come there's no lock on the door?" She asked as he heard some banging. "There never was one, and I'm too lazy to put one on." He could almost hear her eyes roll. "Just don't come in then." He nodded half heartedly and trained his eyes on the television, watching some old sitcom. The shower started up and he was tempted to go and sneak a peek, but knew that he never would.

"What the hell is taking you so long?" Almost half an hour later and she was still in the bathroom. "Your clothes are too big," she replied, and then walked out of the small room to prove it. He burst into a round of huge laughter while she glared at him. His T-Shirt went about mid thigh on her, swallowing her petite frame, his jeans were miles too long, and the belt he had given her was tied to the last buckle and still a bit too wide. Emma had managed to tie a knot in the T-Shirt so it wasn't too huge on her, but she couldn't do anything about the jeans. Pushing his legs off the couch, she sat down next to him. "What are we watching?" She began, but then a loud beat of thunder distracted them. "Let's go watch the storm," she got back up, tugging on his hand to follow her. She was adorable, almost childlike in a sense. But then again, so was he. Greg followed her to the window and watched her watch the lightning.

"It's beautiful," she breathed and he nodded in agreement. He looked down for a second then groaned. "What is it?" She asked, looking over at him in surprise. "Someone's car id being towed and I'm guessing it's yours." She looked back down and then moaned. "What the hell?" All of a sudden, she burst into a round of laughter. After listening to the golden sound of her laughter for a moment, he raised an eyebrow. 'Are you ok?" She giggled again for another moment and flopped down onto the couch. "Today is going just perfectly," she muttered. "First my clothes, and now my car. I wonder what next?" She mused, and then looked up at his shocked expression. He gently sat down next to her and studied her expression. "You want to, uhm, stay the night? In a perfectly non sexual, non romantic way. Just, you don't seem to have anywhere else to go."

Emma nodded, much to his surprise, and then frowned lightly. "But, I will be taking the couch. This is your place, your bed." Before he could argue, she put her fingers over his lips. "Greg," she began her voice serious for once. "You were honest about me about what happened to your face so I want to be honest with you about my…er, thing." "What thing?" He asked, is tone colored by worry. She softly lifted up his shirt to reveal a flat tanned stomach, and then a scar. The scar was above her bellybutton, to the left of it, and it was roughly about 5 inches. "This thing?" She pointed to it with a small smile. "Is it why you left?" He was referring to California, and she nodded. She pulled the shirt back down, and Greg wrapped her up in his arms. She didn't protest, much to his surprise, but turned to face him, her hazel eyes shining. "Ready?"He


	5. Learning New Things

Hehehe I had to make Emma just the teeniest bit miserable. I needed the drama added, and besides,now they know each other better, and now there's going to be the fun chapter next. Haha, looking at my chapters every second story is drama, and every other one is humorous.

* * *

His mouth dry, Greg nodded. He was finally getting to hear what he had wanted to hear all along, the story of what made Emma come here. To his surprise, he didn't care as much about hearing the story than he did about helping her through the story. He let her nestle into his arms, hoping she would get comfortable. She let him hold her, but she didn't snuggle in as he thought she would've. Emma leaned into him but kept her unwavering gaze into his eyes clear. "If you want to tell me." He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, and he definitely didn't want her to move. He brushed a piece of her wet hair out of her eyes and smiled smally at her. He had gone through a lot himself, but for once it would feel good to listen, and to think of someone else's problems. "I do," she replied softly, leaning her head to the side a bit. She tugged at the bottom of the shirt she was wearing and started to talk quietly. He moved over a bit, putting his head in his hand, prepared to listen.

"I grew up in California, San Francisco, like Sara. Except for my parents weren't hippies and I didn't go into foster care. I lived with my mom, and my dad, and my older sister." She paused for a moment. "The spoiled baby of the family," he teased, earning himself an elbow in the ribs. "Actually, not so spoiled. My dad was a doctor and my mom a journalist. Gabby, my sister, was three years older than me. When I was like 9, my mom got fired from her job and started drinking. My dad was never home, so he wasn't a problem. And Gabby got into cheerleading and jocks, and drugs. When my dad was home, he joined my mom in her alcohol and smoked a lot." Listening to her childhood memories was almost like living them, and that hurt. "We were lucky the house never caught on fire."

"When I was around 10, I started cutting. On purpose." She turned her arm over and he absentmindedly traced the smooth skin there, noticing the barely visible scars. "But I stopped because I thought my parents were done with the alcohol and Gabby was done with coke. That lasted about two weeks. My mom liked her vodka a little too much, my dad liked his intern a little too much, and my sister just liked every guy and every drug a little too much. My only friends were my books and my cat. But then my dad backed over my cat, so I was alone. But I didn't start cutting again." He noticed how she was trying to sound upbeat, even alright while she was speaking, but the tears were evident in her voice. "My dad got demoted to a resident, and he didn't spend that much time at work anymore."

"Instead, he spent time alone, in his office, drinking himself to sleep. My mom drunk until she was bitter and lucid and Gabby was never home. My life was like that for 3 years, up until I turned 13. I cleaned the house, I cooked the meals, and I took care of my parents," she laughed bitterly, a shining tear trailing its way off of her face. "My mom checked herself into rehab when I turned 15. She stayed there for months, and I guess my dad deluded himself into thinking she left him. He started drinking more and more, but he went to work, hung over. Never drunk, just hung over. Gabby managed to pass her classes even though she was high most of the time. I haven't heard from my mother since then. One night, Gabby and dad got into a fight. I went out onto the porch to get away from their yelling, but then Gabby ran out and drove off."

"Eventually, my dad came back outside and yelled at me. I was 15 and said some pretty horrible things to him. And he called me a little slut. I had had two boyfriends in my life. Then, he decided to go to work stark drunk. He backed out of the driveway and there was a scream. Gabby was walking back; she was walking across the street. My father hit my sister. My father killed his daughter. Gabby was high on who knows what, and then she was just dead. Laying there on the road. What did I do? I ran. I ran way from my house, from my dad, from my sister, I ran. Eventually, I stopped running and called the cops on my father. I called the police on my own flesh and blood. And the next I heard, he got arrested."

"He was sentenced to 15 years in prison for manslaughter and another 2 months for DUI. And me, I moved into a little apartment by myself when I was 16. My dad was in prison, my sister is dead, and my mom was just gone. I stayed in San Francisco, I went to Berkley. But then my dad got out on parole. He wanted to find me and talk to me, but I couldn't. Harvard was a good place to get away to, but he found me there. I guess I sort of ran back to California and then I got the job offer here and I just came. Easier to get away from him. I had a life back in California, but it just ended. My boyfriend left me; my dad was coming back, so I came here. This place, this job, they're the best things that ever happened to me." She was sobbing now, the tears falling down her cheeks and onto him quickly, in rivers.

Greg held her close, his mind reeling after hearing her story. No wonder she had come to Vegas, no wonder Sara told him not to ask or talk to her. No wonder Emma could get into such crabby moods. He hugged her tighter into his chest, letting her sob as much as she needed to. He rubbed her back, listening to her sobs and brushing some of the hair off of her pale face. He wanted her to know he was here to listen, here to help her. He wasn't impatient; he wasn't cringing away from her tears. In fact, he was more touched than frightened by her sobs. He kept his eyes on her crying features, doing his best to give her a reassuring look. "It's ok, it's ok. Everything's going to be fine," he muttered. This time it was him comforting her; that felt weird. "I'm going to take care of you."

Finally she turned around, looking up at him with her red rimmed, tear filled eyes. She bowed her head down for a moment, and he understood her thoughts immediately. "Don't. Don't be sorry you told me, or you got me all wet, because there's nothing wrong with it. I think you're amazing, and I think that you didn't deserve any of that to happen to you." She sniffled for a second and then nodded, absorbing his words. Greg wanted to tell her that everything was going to stay fine, but who knew, it might not. A few months ago, he had no cares, no demons, but now he was one of the CSIs with the most to lose, and the most lost. "Thanks," she began softly. "For listening to me. And for taking care of me. It's nice to have someone take care of me, even if it is the cocky, arrogant, goofy CSI who's secretly not as tough and air headed as everyone thinks." She laughed wryly and he joined in, still stroking her back.

Listening to her laugh, he suddenly felt a whole lot better about practically everything. "I'm not arrogant," he pouted. She propped herself up on her elbow and gazed at him. "You are too, and you know it," she teased. "Yeah well at least I'm not a stubborn, overly sensitive, bad music loving trace lab tech who is funnier and a whole lot nicer than she lets on." Greg stuck out his tongue, teasing her. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, and then slowly back down at the room. "So what do you do for fun in this place?" She asked, and then caught sight of the Playstation. "No way! You have Playstation? And here I was, thinking you only acted like a nerd." He groaned in protest as she got up to investigate.

"Can we play?" She asked, grinning wickedly. "Definitely!" He beamed, glad that he had finally knew a girl who wanted to play Playstation. "I'll welcome the opportunity to beat you in something, especially an easy game like this," he grinned. She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so confident Sanders, I'm not that bad." She looked confident, but he had the suspicion she was pretending. Besides, no one could beat Greg Sanders at any Playstation game. Well, maybe Nick or Warrick, but they had years of experience. "Let's order pizza," he said, hoping for some food. "Sounds good to me," she shrugged. "But no olives." He raised his eyebrows. "But I like olives!" "No way," she refused. "No olives." Greg nodded, letting her win. "But no mushrooms either."


	6. Game Time

It was time for my completely random, completely weird, sort of humorous chapter. I have no clue how good of a job I'm doing in keeping Greg in canon, so just tell me if I am or not. I had trouble thinking of a movie, so I had to think fast about one that didn't fit with the ones he, and she, wouldn't want to watch.

* * *

"No, no, no way!" Greg cried out, moving with his controller as she beat him again. He shook his head in disbelief, watching her take a swig of the vodka he had in his cupboard. "By the way, why was there a bottle of vodka in your cupboard?' She asked, laughing triumphantly as she poured some more in his glass. He shrugged. "In case I ever met someone who repeatedly beat me in Playstation," he said dully before grinning. "Cheers to that!" She clinked her glass with his, and then laughed when she spilled a bit on the floor. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," she stopped giggling for a moment and looked down at the wet patch on the carpet. Emma walked into the kitchen and grabbed some paper towels before bending down and dabbing the floor with it. He got onto his knees and helped her wipe it up. Between the two of them, they had finished the entire pizza, though Greg would admit he had eaten the rest. The mood was much lighter than it had been before; in fact, he almost forgot the horrors of their lives. Plus, the vodka was helping a bit. They were both on their second glasses, and he wasn't sure when to stop.

"No more Playstation," she moaned, putting her head in her hands after their 9th game. "I give up, you win." He shook his head, the light brown strands flying around. "No we are not stopping until I beat you three times." She muttered under her breath, and then tossed her controller on the ground. "I quit your Playstation." She took another sloppy sip of her vodka and sighed. "I have the perfect companion for the vodka," he muttered, going into the kitchen and grabbing a couple of spoons and throwing something to her. "Wha-Ow!" She cried as the Ben and Jerry's pint hit her leg. "No way! Ben & Jerry's?" She giggled, opening up the small pint. "Chunky Monkey for me, and Half Baked for milady," he joked as he sat back down next to her. "Mmmm…" She sighed as she opened up the container, and Greg tossed her a spoon. "My favorite."

They sat for a few more minutes in comfortable silence until he realized they had both emptied their glasses. "More vodka?" He asked, pouring some more in his glass, and then in hers as she nodded. "I am going to get drunk soon," she called in a sing song voice. Greg laughed in agreement. "You don't hold your alcohol well, do you?" She shook her head, pouting a bit. "Usually I'm drunk after a few glasses. My parents drink a lot, yet I can barely hold my liquor." He laughed at her joke as she looked around. "OK Greggo, we've eaten pizza, played Playstation, drunk vodka, ate ice cream, and drunk more vodka. What next?" He shrugged again. "We could watch a movie, or play Playstation, or go to bed?" All of a sudden, she hopped up. "We can play Playstation again I guess." He grinned. 'Now that I'm all warmed up, watch your back." He cracked his knuckles to finish the joke. "Wait…there's a twist," she bit her lip. "It's strip Playstation."

Twenty minutes later, and Emma was only beating him by one game. But then again, her playing was impaired by the amount of vodka she had drunk. At least Greg held his liquor better than she did; at least he wasn't completely drunk yet. He just had a nice little buzz going on. He got up, tugging off his jeans and glared at her. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to you," he grumbled. She grinned, just glad she was winning. He was left in his boxers, and she in his overly large shirt and her underwear. After the next game, however, it was her turn to strip. She got up and smiled slyly at him before slowly, teasingly, tugging his T-Shirt off of her petite body. He felt his mouth open and close, nothing coming out as she finally pulled the shirt over her head. Her body was beautiful, and her black underwear was revealing yet concealing at once. "Stop staring," she said shyly, crossing her arms as she sat back down.

"No, it's just, uh; you're really, really…never mind. I mean, you look great. Not great I mean, whoops, I didn't mean bad either. You look…" He trailed off, mortified at his words. Luckily, she seemed to find it cute and giggled at his words. Or maybe it was just the alcohol in her system. "I talk a lot when I'm nervous, it's a disease, " he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. She stopped laughing for a second and looked at him. "Maybe we should stop playing, since this might go too far…" "Scared of losing?" He taunted, laughing at her. "Fine let's get it over with." In the end, it wasn't her who lost the game. 'Drop 'em Sanders," she cheered, laughing in her victory. His face turned red. "Maybe you were right, I mean, we don't want to go too far." "Too late. Besides, you're the one who wanted to keep playing," she crossed her arms over her small chest. He shook his head, refusing to get up.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine, be a baby." She picked up his T-Shirt from the ground and then put it back on, earning a glare from Greg. "Let's just go to bed then," he replied stubbornly, trying not to let her win. "Alright then, good night." With that she got up onto the couch and lay down, shutting off the light. "Shoo!" She repeated, waving him away. He stomped out of _his _living room and shut the door to his bedroom. Unfortunately, the mixture of ice cream and vodka, not to mention the fact that Emma was half naked in the room next door, kept him up. He restlessly got up to get a book like he had so many nights before, but even that couldn't hold his attention for very long. Greg's hazelnut brown eyes stayed open as he stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was thinking, drinking all that vodka and eating all that sugar.

Unable to stay confined in his room for any longer, Greg stepped out into the hall and was surprised by the pitch darkness. So she really was sleeping. He decided just to grab another book or something, so maybe he could occupy himself for the rest of the night. Blindly feeling his way to the bookshelf, his hand made contact with something that definitely wasn't the hard wooden bookshelf. His head hit something hard, and seemingly round, and as he fell his legs twisted around another pair of long legs. "What the hell?" He heard Emma's harsh whisper. "Why are you whispering?" He asked, unable to stop himself from grinning. "Because it's like, 4 am." He meant to look up for the clock, but he hit his head on something hard again. "Ow!" That was all that escaped his lips. "Sorry, sorry." Was she laughing at him? "Why are you up anyways?" "Probably the same reason as you, couldn't sleep?" He nodded, and then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yeah. You want to watch some T.V.?" He pressed his hand down, forgetting that it was still on the soft thing that he had hit.

"Are you trying to grope me or something?" Came her struggled rebuttle as he stood up. "No, why- Oh, sorry." He quickly withdrew his hand from whatever part of her he had been touching, and swore he heard a giggle. He held out a hand to pull her up, and was surprised at how light she really was. They blindly felt their way to the couch, laughing as they occasionally collided. He crashed down onto the couch, pulling her on top of him. "What are we watching?" She asked as he turned on the T.V. "Not the news," he replied quickly, flipping through channels. "Deal, but no porno either." He rolled his eyes, listening to her resonating laughter. "No sappy drama movies either," he teased. "No gross comedy.'' "Hey, I like that stuff," he tried to sound insulted. "No depressing romantic crap." He felt her smack his arm. "No sports," she muttered, turning over to watch the T.V.

"Let's just watch a movie," Greg suggested, trying to think of one that they could both watch without killing each other. Emma shrugged, so he took that as a yes. "Hey, the Grudge!" She started to shake her head, but he grinned triumphantly. "It's not the news, a drama, a 'gross comedy', a romance, or sports. Besides, it's cheesy and campy; it's not all that scary." He noticed her roll her eyes, but he wanted to watch this. A few minutes later, she was facing away from the T.V. and had pressed her face into his chest. "Not scary, right," he heard her mutter while he laughed at the special effects. "Calm down Em, it's not real." He saw the anger in her green eyes and smiled all the wider. "it's just a movie."


	7. Standing Up

OK everyone. My next chapters will be from both of their point of views, because I'm struggling with writing as Greg. i know I'm probably not doing a very good job of keeping him in character, so I figured Emma will be more interesting to read about. Thanks for the reviews, and I would really appreciate some more. I'm thinking of introducing some new characters, but I'm not sure about it. What do you guys think? Thanks for reading!

* * *

Greg rolled over drowsily, pulling the blanket up, only to fall down onto the ground. That move should not have knocked him to the floor, so he opened his eyes to see why he had fallen down. Much to his surprise, his eyes were closed. This had to be the longest he had slept in a long time. Opening his eyes, he was blinded by sunlight, but after a few moments, his eyes adjusted. "Shit," he muttered, looking at the clock. Shift started in about an hour, and he was just waking up. Putting his hand on the couch, he pulled himself up only to look down at the sleeping Emma. He put his hand on his head, now he remembered. They had been watching the Grudge and after Emma had stopped hiding her eyes from the movie, she had fallen asleep. And he, ever the gentleman, stayed by her until he fell asleep. Now, he was going to be late for work. Stumbling into his bedroom, he put on some clothes and then went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He knew the drill, and he knew he and Emma would both need the caffeine to get through the shift without passing out.

The phone rang, but Emma got to it before he could answer it. She flashed him a sleepy smile and answered. "Hello?" Her smile disappeared almost instantly as she heard the voice on the other end. "Oh, yeah. No problem," was all he could hear from the kitchen. "See you later." A few moments later, she walked into the kitchen still wearing his large T-Shirt, and her now dry jeans. "That was Nick," she announced, leaning against the counter as he poured some coffee. "He sounded weird." Greg nodded, he had expected as much. "He probably thinks we're, you know," he said. She looked at him expectantly and then shook her head. "No. I can't be known as the girl who's sleeping with her 'senior'. Not that I didn't have a great time, you know I did, but I would rather be judged on my work than because I might be sleeping with Greg Sanders." He tried to hold back a smile, but he couldn't. "Calm down. Even if Nick does think that, it's not like he's going to start telling everyone." He hoped.

After a hectic rush to get ready for work, he walked with Emma to his car. "Remind me to go with you to get your car back," he said, watching her flush a bit. "You don't have to, honestly. I shouldn't have parked there." "You should get used to me taking care of you, because I'm not going anywhere." He opened the passenger seat door for her and smiled gently, watching her cheeks grow pinker by the second. There was something satisfying about seeing her emotions play out on her face and in her eyes. The drive was spent in silence, but not an uncomfortable silence. The silence of people who didn't need to speak to know what the other was thinking, the silence of two people who were eternally comfortable with each other. Greg always found the need to speak, to add humor to something because it was just who he was. And if he let his anger, his shock and depression get the better of him, people would run away and leave. But with Emma, it was as natural as breathing. He didn't have to crack jokes to make himself feel better; he just had to look at her and he was cheered.

"Thanks for the ride!" Emma waved goodbye cheerfully and he smiled back. Today was going to be intense, whether in a bad sense or in a good sense. He probably wouldn't get to see her today, even if he sent in some trace to be tested. "Hey," he called, watching her as she turned around. "Dinner later?" He wasn't in the mood for rejection, and she must've seen that. "Alright, give me a call." He beamed, shyly looking down to the ground. He would have to make reservations or something; he wanted to make her feel special. Anywhere private and special would work. He made a mental note to try and remember to book something. He walked into the lab, praying to god that Nick wasn't already there. He was in no mood for confrontation either, but eventually Nick would ask him why Emma had answered the phone at his place. Either Greg was going to have to tell the truth, or make up one hell of a story.

"And then-hey Greg!" He had barely made it into the lab before hearing the familiar Texan accent call his name. Twisting on his heels, Greg turned around and saw Nick, Sara, and Warrick sitting in the break room. Nick waved, smiling slyly, Sara just looked at him, and Warrick was laughing. He took a deep breath and stalked over to them, ready for their teasing. He should've known that whatever Nick was thinking would be translated into humor, that there would be no chastising about going after one of the lab techs from him, Warrick, Catherine, or maybe Sara. Sara looked sort of shocked, so he couldn't bet on that for sure. But she was laughing a bit too, so maybe she wasn't mad at him for 'probing into Emma's life'. Maybe she thought it was good for both of them to have each other, maybe it was good that he was slowly coming back to normal, perky Greg. He stalked over to the break room, glaring at Nick, and took a seat.

"So, Greggo," Nick began, smirking. "Your girlfriend answered the phone this morning. I didn't know you two were seeing each other." Greg rolled his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend," he mumbled, earning another small laugh from Warrick, and a loose giggle from Sara. "So it was just a one night thing?" Warrick asked in his smooth voice, sounding teasing and serious at the same time. "No!" Greg shook his head more insistently this time. "Then why was she at your place?" Sara finally spoke up. "Because I left my cell phone here, and her car got towed, if you really want to know."

Greg looked down at the table, not wanting to answer any more questions. He barely had the time to breathe now, let alone think, he kept himself so busy. Trying not to think made it all the more likely that he would breakdown sooner or later, and just talking to Emma about what happened to him proved this. "Uhm, Greggo?" Nick's voice reached his ears just as he was being pulled under the full weight of his regrets. "What?" He asked, looking back up, exasperated. "Why is she wearing your shirt?" The tips of his ears started to turn red, but he willed himself not to lose his cool. "She was all wet when she came in, so she had to borrow some clothes." He then started to laugh, starting to grasp how ridiculous and unbelievable his story sounded. Like something he had made up on the whim, impulsively. There, that was a good word to describe how last night was. Impulse. Last night was impulsive, and Emma, she was impulsive, and he was just crazy. His attitude changed from being hurt to ecstatic in seconds, is features from lost to beaming in moments. No wonder everyone worried about him, no wonder people tried to understand him.

"Just make sure whatever happened doesn't happen again," Sara said quietly, and he looked at her, surprised. He would've thought that she wanted him to get close to Emma, for her to have more friends in the lab. "It's not you," she said quickly, realizing her mistake. "Emma just didn't have the best way of dealing with pain, or the shortest track record of being hurt." He knew exactly what she meant. The pale marks on Emma's arms were enough to prove it, and the scar on her stomach that she hadn't explained to him proved that something had happened to her. It's just that he didn't really want her to feel like she had to explain everything to him when they were just getting to know each other. "I don't know if I can do that," he murmured, sliding out of his chair and leaving a gaping Sara behind him. He never had the nerve to say anything like that to her before, and it felt sort of good, to be able to stand up to others. Now, for those reservations…


	8. Long Time No See

I do not own CSI or Marilyn Manson or Red Jumpsuit Apparatus or BarlowGirl or any of their songs. Pheww, that was long.

You may notice some changes, since I started using Emma's thoughts instead of Greg's. Tell me which ones your prefer if you want. A couple of weeks have past since the last chapter, as for the time line. Please rate & review about the story and the changes!

* * *

Weeks past by. Long weeks, weeks that seemed to take up the span of a year. Emma's life became a repeated blend of work, home, and friends. Home was the apartment she was renting for who knows how long, and the small place was probably in a state of disaster right now. She had friends in Vegas, including Sara, so she devoted time to them too. And work was going as well as it could be. She had managed to get along well with most of the people in the lab, excluding Hodges, who continuously underestimated her, and a few other lab techs that were angry that she was taking Henry's spot as trace technician. Life was going well for her, and she felt herself being drawn into the steady stream of routine, something she was not used to. Working in the lab was amazing, an experience she would never give up, but occasionally she felt overlooked in a lab so full of people. Vegas was what, the city with the third best crime lab? How could she, someone so easily made content by just doing her work at her own pace, keep up with that?

Unfortunately, that wasn't the reason Emma headed out early after shift. Her life had become such a blend; she didn't need to remember what day of the week it was. She had spent the whole day processing evidence with barely any thanks, and then Grissom sent her home early since she had been working so hard. Except, there was nothing to look forward to do at home. She had brought her cat when she had moved into the small apartment, but other than that she was completely alone. Sara, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and _he _would still be on shift. Pulling up to her apartment building, Emma gritted her teeth. He had promised her dinner, only to cancel at the last minute, and avoid her ever since. It wasn't a huge lab; she could see him practically every time he came in. But all _he_ever did was shoot her one of his smiles and make her feel like swooning, only to avoid her all shift. Whenever she processed trace evidence in the case, she waited for _him_to come pick it up. Hell, she had even left one of her CDs lying around so that he could take it if he wanted.

But no, Greg Sanders just wouldn't take a hint. She didn't want to admit that she subconsciously looked up whenever someone walked down the hall, hoping it was him. She felt like she was eternally waiting for him, and that cute smile he flashed her didn't help. Unlocking her apartment door, she stepped into the small, comforting room only to be accosted by the ringing of her phone. Whoever was calling her this late, or this early, she thought, looking at her watch, must have some serious insomnia issues, or jetlag. God knows who would call her this early, and she hoped it wasn't her brother. So she had kept her brother out of the story when she had told Greg, but who wanted to talk about a boy who left home when he was 15, lived on the lam, and called once a month to make sure his baby sister was ok? Well, he didn't matter anyways, because Tommy could take care of himself.

"Hello?" Juggling the phone while petting Kitty.

"Hey Emma." Was it borderline creepy that she knew the voice instantly, even though she had only spoken to him a few times? Because the silky, deep voice that greeted her only made her stomach flutter and her heart tremble with recognition.

"What do you want Greg?" She asked, pretending that he had absolutely no effect on her. Pretending was good, pretending was better than admitting that she had been waiting for him to call for weeks.

"I was wondering if you would like an escort to dinner tonight." She could almost see the deep smirk etching itself on his tanned, impish features.

"Sorry, but that offer expired weeks ago." Bitterness. Being bitter was good, right? Hopefully this would pan out the way she hoped it would, because if it didn't she would be stuck alone tonight.

"No, I'm sorry, since I won't be taking no for an answer. Get dressed; I'm almost at your building."

Before Emma could even ask how he knew where she lived, the dial tone sounded as he hung up. She put the phone down gingerly, trying to figure out what she should wear. It was hard to stay mad at a guy who wasn't going to take no for an answer. It was sort of sweet, in a completely awkward and strange way that she was starting to associate with Greg. Walking into her bedroom, she groaned. What did he expect her to wear? Honestly, formal or casual? Dress or jeans? Settling for the latter, she reached into her dresser to take out her favorite pair of jeans. Hopefully, she wouldn't look too out of place, wherever he was taking her. This was an interesting experience before; being so self conscious around someone who had seen her at her worst. She would just have to try and look good tonight. But then it hit her. He lived only what, twenty minutes away, and it had been at least five minutes since he called. She only had ten minutes to get ready, and had no clue what she was doing. This was a girl who wore a band, or any kind of T-Shirt and a pair of jeans to work.

"Ready?" Was all that came from the door, as did some loud knocking. Standing in the bathroom, tucking a few stray curls behind her ears, Emma walked out nervously. She took a deep breath to try and ease the fluttering in her chest, and walked up to the door.

"Keep up with that noise and you'll wake everyone up." She smiled, opening the door. So much for breathing normally. Her breath was stuck in her chest as she was startled by the absolute perfection, the adorable oddities of his face. His hair was sticking up, his hazelnut colored eyes were bright and almost feverish, shining with something she could only place as excitement. His tan skin was flushed a pale pink, and his pink lips were gaping.

"You look, uhm, you look…wow. I mean, not wow, but amazing?" She let out a small giggle at that, watching the pink flush spread across his face and his eyes widen as he took her in.

"Thanks," she responded shyly, looking down. She didn't think she looked that good, though it did take her awhile to dig these out of her closet. Lucky for her, living in Vegas had rubbed off and she had some clothes deemed worthy of going out into the town at such a late hour.

"Shall we?" He grinned, his game face immediately back on. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the smile spreading its way across her features. Maybe the peach halter hadn't been the finest choice, or the dark skinny jeans, but a little warning would have helped.

"Of course." She followed him down the stairs to his car, and when they got there she got in, nervously playing with the strap on her halter. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Emma got the urge for some music. She twisted the knob for the radio, succeeding in finding a station that was playing Face Down by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. She turned it up, and caught Greg's amused eye.

"No offense, but your choice in music, not the best…" He trailed off, turning on the CD that had been in the stereo. She jumped violently as The Fight Song by Marilyn Manson starting booming from the stereo, and then promptly shook her head.

"No Marilyn Manson." She turned the knob back to her radio station.

"My car, my music." He turned his Marilyn Manson CD back on.

They continued like this for another few minutes until Emma decided to find another radio station. Grinning, she found a station playing Never Alone by BarlowGirl. "Aha!" She cried.

"No way."

"Well, it's not Marilyn Manson, and its not Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. By the way, I don't see what's so bad about them."

"They aren't terrible, it's just their music is a little…slow, and that song isn't the most romantic thing."

"Oh, and Marilyn Manson is?"

"Better than them. Again, my car, my music. And I'm paying for dinner, so watch your mouth missy." She saw the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, the smirk playing on his irresistible lips.

"You know I could pay for my own food."

"But that would ruin the whole idea of this being a dinner date. Which, I owe you. I'm sorry for canceling before."

"And?"

"And because I didn't call of anything."

"Thank you, I forgive you. You're too damn cute when you're sad."

"I know." His dark eyes twinkled again as she narrowed her green ones. He parked the car, and then hopped out to open her door for her.

"I think I can open my door, but thanks anyways." She stepped out, wondering where they were.

"Come on." He took her hand, sending thousands of tiny, smile inducing shivers through her body. He led her into the large building, walked her deeper into the building, and then opened the only door on the left for her.

"Wow." This was definitely something she liked.

"I knew you'd like it!" He sounded gleeful, like a little kid who impressed his parents.

"This place is incredible, how did you find it?"

"Some friend or another said it was the perfect place for someone you want to impress."

Before she could sum up the words to respond, and before the blush in her cheeks disappeared, he pulled her deeper into the restaurant. It was one of those little places no one could find, with a bar and small, comfy booths along walls with bright pictures above them. A young woman was singing karaoke by the bar, and a few couples were drinking wine and laughing demurely. "This is definitely impressive."

"I figured the perfect place for the perfect trace tech." He sounded sincere, but she couldn't help but look at him and dare to believe what he was saying was true. He pulled out her chair for her and then sat down herself.

"Always the gentleman."

"I try."


End file.
